


Awake and Asleep

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s03e17 A Hundred Days, F/M, Post-Episode: s03e18 Shades of Grey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: After she gets the Colonel back, and then loses him again, Sam Carter cannot sleep, on world or off, haunted by the dreams of his hands and body."No Carter. I haven’t been acting like myself since I met you. Now I’m acting like myself."





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentKalGibbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentKalGibbs/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [AgentKalGibbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentKalGibbs/pseuds/AgentKalGibbs) in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Thought it was a dream but they wake up together naked

She dreams about him, has for months. The feel of his mouth on her neck. The press of their bodies, the coolness of his fingers as they stroke her. At first she thought it was because she was obsessing, trying to get him home, trying to get him back. She is honest enough to know, that despite what she told Janet, her feelings  _are_ a problem. 

When he went undercover, the feelings changed. Anger and arousal warred with each other. The dreams changed too. 

Since then she has spent most of her on-base time hiding in her lab cataloging and tinkering with items brought back by the other teams during her self imposed three months of Colonel Quest. Any day spent trying to ignore him and his insistent jabs that she forgive him has made her feel just as worthless as the moment he turned away from her. 

This morning's adventure of the Colonel touching everything in the lab so that he could needle her into talking to him ended in a way that brought satisfaction to no one; with Sam's curt "Stop, Sir!" as she grabbed whatever fiddly object he was inspecting and then "Sorry-Sir"-ing him within an inch of his life. She determinedly put the object away on a high shelf and furiously refused to give it any further thought. All day. 

The day continued to drag on and Sam got more irritable with each passing moment. At noon she had heard the Colonel herding Daniel away from her lab and she renewed her efforts to sulk herself into oblivion. A small part of Sam acknowledged that she was acting like a jilted lover, but she couldn't stop.

At home, she apprehensively looked at her bed. Disappointed that a part of her looked forward to the dreams. They were the only time she had properly spoken to him in _months._

\---

Tonight's dream started like all the others had this week. He looks at her, dismissive and uninterested _"No Carter. I haven’t been acting like myself since I met you. Now I’m acting like myself."_

The hurt that fills her is now as familiar as an old and welcome friend.  

"I don't understand..." she beings, but the Colonel cuts her off "That's a first!". 

When he walks away from her, she expects to wake up. 

The dream continues, scenes merging one into another. Jonas in the last months of their relationship, scoffing that she's useless. That, for a smart person, she's an idiot. Pictures of other women, of whispers her friends told her about. Sitting in his kitchen together, him reading the paper and her so desperately trying to find a way to talk to him, eyes full of unshed tears.

She dreams that the Colonel is watching her last night in bed with Jonas. She had so desperately tried to feel something, anything, at that point. In the dream she is wearing lingerie, which she almost always did with Jonas, and pearls, too, because that's what he liked. The red lace contrasts against her pale skin. There is a bruise on her thigh from when Jonas was just that bit too rough the night before, and a cut on her lip, from when he had bit at her mouth. 

The Colonel is there, sitting by the side of the bed, while she stands before Jonas, who is half way through a bottle of Tequila and looking at her with derision in his eyes. The Colonel seems confused, and hurt. And then she is the Colonel, watching out of his eyes, floored by the strength of his feelings. Rage. Anger. Betrayal. Hunger. Their eyes drink her in. 

She reaches for herself, opens her mouth to say something, battles the Colonel for his body. 

The old, young Sam, opens her eyes, and then she is back in her body, and the dream falls away. They stand on the dusty soil at Edora, and watch the Colonel turn away from her to go to Laira. The other him stands next to her, and reaches for her hand. 

"I haven't been acting like myself since I met you." He says again, fingers intertwined with hers. 

The dream shifts again, and they are lying next to each other in Sam's childhood bed, the blue covers of the single bed contrasting with their green BDUs. The Colonel has his arms around her, stroking her from elbow to wrist. 

"I don't understand..." she beings again, but his lips are right there, at the edge of her mouth, a bare whisper of a kiss. 

"Samantha." He breathes her name against her cheek. 

When she wakes up, the muscles in her neck and shoulders have cramped up and she feels so alone that the tears are instant and furious. 

The next day is much the same, filled with short snappy comments, and while a part of her can see that he is also tired and that she must be getting to him, she spends the entire time of his brief visit starting at her computer screen silently. When the boys from the tech labs come to ask questions about the device she had snatched from the Colonel yesterday and shelved away (somewhere, with her feelings and her commonsense) she practically pushes them out of the room. One of the rookies tries to tell about the communicative aspects of that technological society, but she gives him no ground. 

 

\----

At some wee hour, Sam walks back to her on-base quarters, too tired to bother going home. She feels unspeakably angry. 

That night, in her dream, Jack O'Neill is kissing her. The room is dark, but she can taste him. He is lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, his right hand cautiously resting at her waist. She feels a little bit dizzy, tucked almost underneath him, pressed to him from toe to crown. She reaches for his face, strokes her fingers across the stubble, and opens her mouth to deepen the kiss. 

The feel of his bottom lip between hers makes her whimper. The Colonel swallows the sound, and gathers her closer. The hand at her waist has bunched up her night shirt, and Sam wonders how he's being so retrained. Usually, in these fantasies, he's got her on her back by now. A ridiculous voice at the back of her head thinks  "ah, a romantic fantasy, fuck you're pathetic, Samantha." but she lets it go. 

The dream doesn't shift, it stays remarkably ordinary except for the unbelievable truth that eventually her CO is palming at her breast over her nightshirt and hitching her leg over his hip to get closer. 

When her mouth is openly panting against his stubble, Sam briefly wonders where the fantasy of his five'o'clock shadow came from. She acknowledges that she associates any facial hair with abandonment these days, but, as he drags it across her throat and towards her breast, leaving a trail of sensation, she suspects she may reconsider.

"I want.." she starts, but trails off, unsure. "Take whatever you want from me, Samantha." The Colonel says around the nipple in his mouth. 

She pushes her hips towards his, perfectly aligned, and hopes he can understand what she can't say. She can feel his smile on her skin. The nightdress is now no more. 

"Sir." 

"In my dreams, you call me Jack" he says, and then in a move she could not have perfected on such a small bed, he flips them over so she's on top. The only shred of clothing between them is two sets of standard issue underwear. 

She moves, to get rid of her underwear and his, and then, then she is sinking down on him. His cock is hard and silken and a part of Sam realises this is the first time she has had sex without a condom. 

The Colonel lets her set the pace, reaching between them to touch her clit. 

When she reaches down to kiss him, dislodging his hand to grind her clit into his pelvis, his hands go to her hips and the rhythm now changes. At each thrust, Sam mewls into his shoulder. 

"Be quiet, little cat." despite the order, she can hear the laughter in his voice. 

To punish him, Sam sinks her teeth into his neck, harder than she would ever do in real life. She feels him tense at the pain and can taste copper in her mouth, and the idea of it, doubles the wetness between them.

"Mark me, sweetheart. I'm yours." He says, and is rewarded with her nails scratching at his biceps. 

She knows shes hurting him, and that this must border between the edge of pain and pleasure. 

"Tell me to stop, Jack." she says, teeth poised against his earlobe. 

"Anything you want, love."

"I want you to come inside of me."

The sound he makes when she bites him again, while her nails sink into his shoulder, and he moves inside of her, is enough to set Sam over the edge. 

She realises that Jack is there too, flying over the same precipice, his arms wrapped around her, hands gripping at her buttocks, holding her steady as he empties himself into her. 

The tears that swell up in her eyes are mortifying, but it feels like he knows her. Dream Jack knows about Jonas, knows about her mother, knows what matters. 

"Shhhhh, shhh, you're beautiful. You matter. I should have trusted you to get me back. I should have told you I was undercover. I'm sorry. I think I love you." Again and again, he whispers these things into her neck as she cries. Between them the evidence of their coupling turns sticky, the sheets get cool, but Jack holds her in his lap and gentles her with his voice.  

 -----

 

Sometime in the morning, she wakes up to a loud thud and "Oh for crying out loud!" coming from the floor. The sight that greets her from the side of what she thought was her cot, is Jack O'Neill, butt naked, hair disheveled, eyes wide, throat bruised. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are refusing to talk about it. Sort of.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

So she slept, without protection, with her CO. 

On base. 

Even though she went to bed in her own quarters (that she is sure of) and she's going to be reviewing and then deleting the footage as soon as she finds some _underwear._  

!

Sam Carter will NEVER calm down again. 

Also apparently he loves her. 

She isn't sure how much was the dream and how much was not the dream and how this all came about. She remembers those words but he can't have meant them. This can't have been _real,_ but the ache between her legs says it is. 

Also her faith in science is wavering, because even when they are drowning in alien technology people don't just disappear and then re-appear somewhere else mid dream sex. 

Also she's still naked.

The Colonel is at the dresser, pulling on clothes, while she studiously avoids his attempts to make eye contact. 

"Carter?"

"Sir."

"Carter?"

"Sir." 

That may be the most ineffectual conversation of her life. 

The moment he gives up trying to talk to her, she is filled with a waspish displeasure at his disregard. Doesn't he know they just had _sex._  

She's trying not to peek as he gets dressed, but the welts on his shoulders look painful and red. 

"Don't you have a turtleneck or something?" she asks, her voice sounds panicked and high pitched even do her. 

Jack turns to look at her, his eyes shadowed and hiding some sort of frustration she can't place. He walks over to the bathroom to look at his neck in the mirror. The indentations of her teeth and the surrounding bruising is above the collar line and clearly visible. His expression softens, and then shifts into amusement. By the time he looks at her again he is smirking, and she hates him a little bit. 

"I didn't know you had it in you, Carter."

That was the wrong thing to say. 

She's on her feet in an instant, the bedding falling away, gloriously naked. 

The movement that propels her is without intent. She needs to do something but she can't possibly mean to strike a superior officer, and also, she isn't exactly in the habit of hitting people she's sleeping with. The intent becomes irrelevant, as he grabs her mid motion. Her naked body pressed against the rough cotton of his BDUs. God, it's the sort of things her fantasies were made of. No wonder she thought she was dreaming last night. 

His mouth immediately goes to her neck, his face nuzzling into her, stubble rasping against her skin. She thinks maybe the morning is redeemable, that she can put aside her panic for just a second but then - "Did you miss me, little cat?" he says. 

Samantha Carter moves to knee her CO in the crotch, but it seems he has played this game before. Within seconds, she's pinned against the wall, his leg between hers, both writs held behind her in one of his. 

"Don't. Call. Me. That." She flexes against him. She _probably_ could dislodge him. 

"In my dreams, right?" his smile is ridiculous and sardonic and his fingers are thumbing at her nipple. 

He doesn't get to hear her moan. 

Daniel's voice comes over the sound of violent knocking on the door. "Jack, have you seen Sam. The boys from SG-Whatever desperately need their doodad back." 

"Doodad?" He asks Sam, but her blue eyes are open wide in panic. 

Almost mournfully Jack drops his head to her breast, mouth sucking insistently at her nipple, teeth grazing over the sensitive bud, and then he steps away. 

"Give me a second Daniel, I just woke up."

 ---

She inhales coffee all day and her heart is beating so wildly and all she can feel is the ache between her legs where he had apparently been last NIGHT!

Sam has to keep telling herself to breathe slowly or she is going to hyperventilate, and she's too scared to go have a shower because she is absolutely not touching herself on base. A small part of her doesn't want to wash him off her skin, but that's just ridiculous. 

She goes through the day in a frenzied rush. For the first time since Edora the Colonel is not barging into her lab to needle at her. He is suspiciously quiet and hiding, she suspects, in his office. 

Her review of the security tapes is unhelpful. Barring the glitch that covers the portion of tape she deleted where she leaves his quarters, five minutes after he and Daniel walk in the direction of the mess, it looks like she went into her rooms and didn't come out. 

Eventually she has to leave the base or she is going to need to find a cupboard and a paper bag. In the elevator, Janet corners her. 

"Hey, I know we said this wasn't a problem." she begins, tentative. 

Sam squeaks. "Ok, mortifying" she thinks. 

Janet raises her eyebrow in a way that makes Sam think of Teal'c. 

"It's just, I don't want you to get hurt, and I, uhh, I think the Colonel is seeing someone." Janet looks apprehensive, like she is about to fold herself around Sam and comfort her.  

Sam is now laughing hysterically which is positively dangerous in front of the base CMO. 

"Sam?" the brunette begins, but Sam has jammed the door open button at level 11, nervous energy spiking her every movement. 

"Gotta go, need documents!" she yells out as she runs out of the elevator and makes a beeline for the stairs. Janet continues calling out for her, but the moment is broken. 

Sam burns some of the adrenaline running down a dozen flights of stairs. The moment she stops, she is incredibly tired and weary. The stress of the last several months had settled again on her shoulders and she has the overwhelming urge to cry. 

Suspecting that either Janet or Daniel are about to look for her, Sam goes from lab to lab until she strikes an empty workspace, locking herself in the MALP storage room. 

"Famous last words", she thinks wanting to just close her eyes for a second but willing the dreams away. The moment she sits down against the entrance door, her head lulls and she is asleep.  

A moment later she wakes up to a hand at her throat, pinned to a wooden headboard, gasping for breath. 

Jack O'Neill is staring at her with violence in his eyes. 

Around her, the cool quiet air of what must be his bedroom, is charged with tension. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 


	3. Three

It doesn't take long for him to recognise her, a few seconds, and the pressure is gone from her throat. 

"Jack.." she started, slowly, trying to keep her voice low and soothing. She had woken the Colonel up unexpectedly a few times, off world, and when startled out of sleep he sometimes reacted with violence. It was incredibly rare, once or twice a month at the beginning, and then only once again in the last two years, but she knew that he beat himself up over it.

Thinking that perhaps familiarity would help, she tried for her usual cheery greeting. "Sir."

That got a snort of laughter from him. "Come off it, Carter. You're naked in my bed again."

"Glad to have you back, Sir." She was relived, but now this brought on a different sort of problem to her attention. She _was_ naked. Again. She scrambled to put as much bedsheet between the two of them. 

"Jack." He instructed. That seemed fair; he still had the mark of her teeth on his neck. 

"S..Jack, I don't know how I got here again." Her blush was glorious, spreading from cheeks to chest.

"Naked."

"Is that going to be your only response?" It was easy to shift into being mad at him, which she vindictively noted made him huff in frustration. The small part of her, that cared what a superior officer thought, was starting to be a little bit disappointed in both of them. 

"Carter. It's obviously the dream transporter trinket from PX-Whatever." She could see he was starting to lose his patience with the conversation, but at least no one was paying attention to the fact that anyone was naked, or calling anyone feline pet names. 

"It is?"

"Carter!"

"Ok, fine. It is. I just don't know what to do about it."

"Of course you don't. You haven't slept properly in months." Jack reached for something that must have been on the floor next to his side of the bed and threw it at her. Soft, threadbare cotton met her fingers, and she realised it was one of his T-shirts. She wasted no time in donning what turned out to be a worn old hockey shirt. Smoothing her hands over it, Sam moved to get out of the bed and look for pants. Again.  

"Ah! Just lie down and sleep. You'll just appear back here in a little bit anyway." Not waiting to see if she would obey ("Why would he, she always obeyed his orders!" Sam thought, which was both uncharitable and untrue) Jack's body hit the mattress, and then, for all intents and purposes, he was asleep. 

"Bastard." She muttered under her breath, reaching to pull the bed covers over her legs, and then, with a strange sense of excited trepidation, she laid down next to him. 

Her body continued to thrum with energy, and despite her hyperawareness of his every breath, she was surprised when his arm shot out to grab her around the waist and pull her into his side. 

"Do you need me to stroke you so you can sleep, little cat?" Jack whispered in her hair. She could see that this was what he was like as a man, intense, teasing, some parts dark, many parts dangerous. She wanted to protest the name, it was _stupid,_ but it was also significantly removed from who they were as officers, that she couldn't begrudge him the need for that distinction.  

She didn't answer. How could she? "Yes, sir, please make me come with your fingers and your cock and your teeth so that I can go back to sleep." just didn't have the right can-do attitude she usually aimed for. 

Jack was already shifting, easing his body between her thighs, and it was nothing to hitch her leg over his hip, and raise her bottom, and feel his length glide against her core. 

"You looked after me, you got me home, let me take care of you." a litany of words punctuated with kisses along her jaw. 

"You didn't want to come home." the moment she said it, she knew this was the crux of her rage at him. His grip on her hips tightened, and he shifted, pushing into her slowly. She wasn't ready, and it was a tight fit, but each slow second felt like throwing gasoline on the sparks usually between them. 

"I did. I gave up hope, but I wanted to come back. To you. To the Team." He stilled when he was fully sheathed inside of her. The truth of his words settled into her bones. He belonged to the Team, but he belonged to her more. 

"You said you loved me?" She questioned. His response was to shift closer to her, arms wrapped tight around her back, forehead to forehead, his movements slow and deliberate. 

"I said I thought I loved you." he countered, cradling her face in his hands. Sam realised she was panting into his mouth, stroking his nose with hers, gripping his ass with her hands to pull him closer. 

"No more other women, Jack." Sam lifted her hips to urge him to move, impatient and emotional, but he stilled her, giving her time to adjust.

"Christ, Carter, it's not like I was cheating. You make it sound like I'm Captain Kirk out there." 

"No. More. Other. Women. Jack." she repeated, her teeth scraping against last night's bite on his neck. That made him groan, and propelled him to start moving his hips. Each circular half motion made her breath catch. 

"Yes, sweetheart, no more other women."

 

It didn't take long for her to feel the telltale tightness in her belly that meant an orgasm was inevitable. They climbed that peak together, Jack's hands cradling the back of her head and the sides of her face, infinitely gentle, his hips moving against hers, pressed together from crown to toe.  

"Come so I can come" she ordered, and then he was, his embrace tightened, his rhythm changed but deeper, and it was enough to set her over the edge. She sank her teeth in his shoulder, and her nails into his ass, and screamed her pleasure. 

A few minutes later, she realised he was moving off her, and that she had fallen asleep. 

"Come on, you need to use the bathroom, lets avoid a UTI." he urged, and pulled her towards the ensuite. She used the toilet, and then the shower, while he pottered around the kitchen and came back with camomile tea and a pre-warmed towel. 

The bedsheets were changed and clean, which was also a nice surprise, and she realised he had put the laundry on. 

"House trained." he said proudly at her interest, and then pushed her onto the bed. 

Laughing, Jack followed her in. Tucked in the covers.

He may have said "You sleep on the left side, little cat." but his laughter was the last thing she heard. 

 


End file.
